


Home with You

by mightierthanthecanon



Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexuality, Developing Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, because they deserve nice things, they've suffered enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6176647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightierthanthecanon/pseuds/mightierthanthecanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Amberle and Eretria should NOT be roommates, Wil juggles crushes on both of them, and everyone ends up taking Film 101 <strike>and falling in love</strike>.<br/>Oops.</p><p>Tags to be updated regularly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home with You

**Author's Note:**

> You can never have too many college aus, right?

Wil Ohmsford had never seen so many people in his life. _Orientation Weekend_ , the schedule had said, and he’d been expecting to see a few freshmen—people who didn’t have families to say goodbye to, straight-A students who wanted to know exactly how to ace classes hadn’t started yet—but it looked like the entire incoming class of Arborlon University had shown up. They filled the seats of the Great Hall, grinning and making introductions until it felt like the room itself were vibrating with excitement. Wil sighed, settling into his chair near the back of the room and waited for the college president to arrive.

As it usually did, the thought hit him like a freight train.

_Mom is dead._

Wil shook his head, trying to clear the thought, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t focus on the stage. Not now.

Determined to have a good weekend, Wil had spent his first day on campus as busily as humanly possible—unpacking his only suitcase, getting his ID card, and signing up for meal plans—so he wouldn’t have to think about it. But now he was thinking about it. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Because his mom was dead. He was alone. 

The two of them had planned for this for what seemed like his whole life—his big adventure. It was going to be high school, then college, then med school, and finally, him becoming a big shot doctor in a big city (preferably New York City), with his mom at his side. From time to time, he’d recall his father’s voice, a familiar face, but most of Wil’s memories began and ended with his mother. She’d been there every step of the way. She’d even been Wil’s first patient, back when he was a gangly 10 year old with a fake stethoscope. When Wil had wanted the best (only) physician in town to take him on as an assistant the summer before junior year, she’d been the one to convince him it could happen.It almost seemed impossible that she wasn’t here to watch him achieve what they’d always dreamed of together.

Wil pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the tears, sweeping his hair behind his ears to hide the gesture. Yes, she was gone. Yes, he was alone now. But that didn’t mean he had to cry, right?

Sliding his hand down, he brushed his fingers against the cool stones in his pocket. Elfstones, his father had called them, before he’d passed. But that had just been a story. They weren’t magic. Wil had learned that when he was ten, even he hadn’t truly believed it until a month ago, when he’d turned them over and over in his hands, waiting for his mother to wake up. 

Some dreams take longer to die than others.

Still, rolling the stones between his fingers was a habit now. If nothing else, it calmed him, grounded him. Closing his eyes, Wil took a deep breath, willing the tears back. He wasn’t a little kid anymore. He was 18 years old, and he was going to be okay. He had to be. 

Just then, a round of applause broke out from the students and Wil realized the president was on the stage. Leaving the stage, actually. She’d spoken. She’d gone through her whole speech and Wil hadn’t even noticed. 

Oops.

“Are you going to get up any time soon, or are you just going to sit there all day?” a voice asked.

Wil turned to look. It was a girl, porcelain-skinned and almost a foot shorter than him, looking intimidatingly attractive in a tight leather jacket and a low-slung pair of jeans. Very low, actually. He could see a sliver of skin just between—

She cleared her throat and Wil flushed, embarrassed at being caught looking. (Although, in his defense, how could he _not_?)

“Sorry,” he said, ducking his head. He took a moment to compose his face. Maybe she wouldn’t notice he’d been crying? “I just…I just spaced out there for a sec, I guess. Sorry.”

Wil must have looked lost, or confused, or something, because the irritation on the girl’s face shifted almost imperceptibly, and instead of stepping past him out of the aisle, she squinted down at him.

“You’re not, like, having a panic attack, are you?” she asked. 

Her voice was brusque, but her eyes were soft, and Wil hesitated for a long moment before shaking his head.

“No, I’m okay.” 

She didn’t look convinced, but thankfully, she let him off the hook.  “Just staring into space?” she asked, the corner of her mouth lifting in amusement. 

Wil revised his opinion of her. She wasn’t just attractive. She was gorgeous. With her big brown eyes and rosy cheeks, and full lips, she’d almost look like a doll if she wasn’t so… 

The girl scoffed at his lack of response, eyebrows raising in not-so-silent judgement. “You need better hobbies.”

Right on time. Wil almost laughed. “Of course,” he fired back, laughing in spite of himself at the shift in tone. The way she swung from considerate sincerity to…pretty accurate insults was kind of giving him whiplash. But he liked it. “Got any bright ideas?”

Her eyes widened.

As usual, it was only after the words were out his mouth that he realized he should have kept it shut. She was just humoring him, she wasn’t actually trying to—

“A few,” she answered immediately.

Wil flushed. “Um…” he stumbled, ready to backtrack, but if anything, the girl’s smile widened, and she stepped back to give him a once-over, as if her first appraisal of him had been wrong, and she needed to look him over again.

“Maybe I’ll tell you next time.” She grinned, putting out her hand. “I’m Eretria.”

“Wil,” he replied, standing up to shake it. “Wil Ohmsford.” 

Something in her handshake reminded him of a conversation he’d had with his mother just before his first college interview, about the difference between a right and a wrong handshake. Eretria was ‘the right handshake’ all the way—strong and self assured and…

It occurred to Wil that he was still holding her hand. He laughed at himself under his breath and let go, looking up to find Eretria biting her lip in amusement.

“Sorry,” he repeated, for lack of anything better to say.

She grinned, looking up at him appreciatively. “You said that.” Eretria’s smile thinned into a more intimidating smirk. “But you’re still in my way.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Wil said. Crap. Before he could move though, and get out the aisle, out of the Great Hall, where he could _think—_ why couldn’t he think around her?—she interrupted him.

“It’s fine,” Eretria said, in a voice that implied it was emphatically _not_ fine. “I wanted to beat the crowd, but…”

She pointed towards the window, and Wil followed her hand, the rings on her fingers glinting in the sunlight. It was like a herd of college kids, practically stampeding towards the dining hall.

Guilty, he look around at the empty seats surrounding them. He and Eretria weren’t _quite_ alone in the audience hall, but there were few enough people there that it felt like just she and him.

“Oh,” he said, and Eretria smiled. It was like she enjoyed seeing him at a loss. Maybe she did. From the way his heart was pounding, Wil wasn’t entirely sure that he disliked it himself.

A guy tapped on her shoulder, trying to get by, and Eretria shrugged his hand off, both her eyes and her attention firmly trained on Wil. 

“So, Wil Ohmsford,” she prodded, eyebrows raised. “Are you going to make it up to me?” 

A beat, and his stomach tightened. Was she joking or serious? Wil couldn’t tell, but…well. Even if Eretria wasn’t flirting with him, even if she was merely having fun at his expense, Wil was having fun. He was actually enjoying himself—not just pretending to—for the first time since he’d gotten on campus two days ago.

“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll make it up to you. Um…” He thought for a moment, brushing his fingertips against the stones in his pocket. “Dinner. Can I get you dinner?”

Eretria smiled, and Wil felt his heart beat faster in his chest. 

“Yes. Yes, you can.” 

She grabbed his arm. “Come on, Chipotle’s this way.”

* * *

It wasn’t until Eretria had locked the door securely behind her, unpacked her clothes, and laid a rug down on the floor that she truly believed it.

Months ago, when the thick envelope had come in the mail—light green, with ARBORLON U. stamped on the front in big white letters—it had taken her three days to open it. Even after Eretria had accepted at the library the next town over, things hadn’t gotten any better. She’d looked behind her almost the entire train ride here, waiting for Cephalo to show up having changed his mind. Just yesterday, she’d imagined being be turned away at the registration desk, or the key office, or the dormitory—but she hadn’t been.

She was _in._ She was _safe._ And this room was hers. Granted, Eretria didn’t have curtains or mini fridges like some other kids she’d seen (not that there would have been room in the tiny, tiny double), but she’d saved up enough money for a bright orange rug and a Mad Max poster to match, and that was enough for her.

The bed wasn’t anything to sneeze at either, especially after living at Cephalo’s. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and let herself sink into the pillows. Everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

Eretria didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she heard the phone ring, and practically jumped out the bed at the sound of it. Then, her blood ran cold.

It was Cephalo. It had to be. Eretria didn’t know anyone here, and it wasn’t like anyone from back home was calling to say hi. 

She kicked ineffectually at the sheets, cursing herself for having let her guard down—even here, even for a minute. It was a dumb thing to do. She _knew_ better. She _knew._

But the phone kept ringing. Eretria ignored the first ring. Then the second. But Cephalo was neither patient nor understanding, so by the third ring, she found herself reaching for the phone, years of self-preservation skills kicking in like an unwanted guest.

“What do you want?”

Cephalo scoffed. “Is that any way to talk to your father?” 

_You're not my father_. Eretria thought it, but didn’t say it. She wasn’t a child anymore. More to the point, Cephalo didn’t care. It wouldn’t hurt his feelings. It would only make him angry. Even here, even hundreds of miles away, Eretria wasn’t bold enough to risk that.

“What do you want, Cephalo?” she asked.

“Nothing, babe. Just called to see if how you’re doing.”

Eretria paused.

“Really?”

“Of course! You know you’re my number one girl, right?”

“Um…yeah, Cephalo,” she said, climbing out of the bed. “Sure. Just got in yesterday.”

“Well I know you’re busy at your important university now, so there’s just one tiny thing and I’ll let you go.”

Eretria’s heart sank.

“The rent's due.”

And of course.

It wasn’t like Eretria had expected him to let her go, or that he might actually pay his fucking bills by his fucking self for once. It was just that…it had been such a _good_ couple of days. She’d gotten into all of her intro classes, joined the fencing club, _and_ found a cute boy to buy her dinner. Cephalo had barely crossed her mind. But of course she was on his. Fucking money. Fucking Cephalo. Eretria shuddered, and double-checked the lock on her door, the hundreds of miles between them notwithstanding. 

“I don’t have your rent money, Cephalo,” she sighed. Leaning against the door, she banged her head against it in desperation. “I’m at college, remember?”

“So? It’s not like you’re going to Harvard, is it? Plus, didn’t you tell me you weaseled your way into a scholarship? Love to hear how you managed that one.”

Eretria swallowed down the anger along with the snarky remark on the tip of her tongue.

“It’s not a full scholarship, Cephalo. They gave me work-study, not free money.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I still have to pay!”

“And?” Cephalo asked, uncaring as always. “You owe me.”

And that…that was true. That would always be true. As much as she hated Cephalo, as much as she despised the man, Eretria couldn’t get past the fact that she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. Some days, though, that felt less like a gift and more like a curse. Would she never be free of him?

Eretria ran her fingers through her hair.

“I…I don’t have a job yet, but…

“Then get one,” Cephalo interrupted. “And call me when you do, otherwise—

Something thudded in Eretria’s head, and it took her a moment to recognize it as a knock on the door, and not the beginning of a stress headache.

“Sorry, Cephalo,” Eretria said, desperately grateful for the interruption. “I have to go.” 

“Eretria…”

The knock came again.

_Goddamnit._

“One second!” she yelled, then turned back to the phone. “Seriously, Cephalo, there’s someone at the door.”

“Send that money over, sweetheart” he said, his voice disgustingly false, and hung up before Eretria could protest.

Half annoyed and half distracted, she yanked the door open, ready to curse out whoever had the bad luck of standing there.

It was a girl, and she didn’t look happy. She was taller than Eretria, with light brown eyes and ears that stuck out. If Eretria was in a better mood, she might have called her cute. She might even have flirted.The girl’s big green eyes, slender waist and shapely legs (accentuated by tight black leggings that Eretria could tell by looking were expensive as hell) all deserved at least a second look, if not a third and a fourth.

But Eretria wasn’t in the mood to flirt. She was in the mood to fight.

“What?” Eretria said, practically shouting into the empty hallway. 

Someone else would have felt bad, for startling her, for staring at her, for yelling at her for no reason. Luckily for Eretria, guilt wasn’t an emotion she possessed.

“Hi,” the girl said. “I’m Amber. I know we were all supposed to get here by yesterday, but…” The girl trailed off, clearly thrown off guard by the Eretria’s refusal to let her in. 

Eretria raised her eyebrows. _So?_

“Your roommate?”

And…well. Shit. Taking her anger out on a girl she’d probably never see again was one thing, but pissing off someone she’d be _living with_ for the next nine months? Eretria kicked herself. Mentally.

“Let me in,” the girl said finally, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Eretria felt the stirrings of guilt shrivel up and die. She narrowed her eyes. 

“Welcome, roomie,” she said. And that was it. That was all the welcome she was going to get. Take it or leave it.

“Thanks,” Amber said brightly, pushing the door open. Then, she called behind her. “Lorin?”

It was only a moment, barely long enough for Eretria to do anything, but Amber had pissed her off. Well, more to the point, Cephalo had pissed her off, and Amber had come in on the tail end of it and made everything worse. In any case, that was all the motivation she needed to pull off a subtle lift. No room for pockets in the leggings, but there was a wallet in the sweater (wrap...thing) that Eretria absolutely did  _not_ mind taking. It wasn't quite as satisfying as a punch in the face, but it would serve Amber right. 

Eretria hadn't realized she’d actually been about to start an honest to goodness fight with her first real roommate until Amber spoiled her plans to do so. But she didn’t seem to notice either Eretria’s sarcasm or her nastiness. That, or she didn’t care, which might just have been worse.

A young man appeared in the doorway, carrying three suitcases and two bags from the bookstore. “Miss…” He looked at Amber, who raised her eyebrows. “Miss Brooks,” he responded suddenly, like he’d forgotten. Then, he glanced warily at Eretria and carried everything into the room.

The whole exchange, deference and all, was…weird, and although Eretria had promised herself that she wouldn’t talk, she _had_ to say something. 

“Boyfriend?” she asked, casual. Super casual. Hide the wallet.

Amber shook her head. “No. He’s my driver. Well, my dad’s driver, but I needed to get here, so…”

She kept talking, but Eretria had stopped paying attention. She was stuck on that one word. _Driver_. Amber had a driver. Amber was using her dad’s driver like a personal valet service.

Looking back at the luggage, Eretria realizedwhat she’d been too angry to notice before. It was Louis Vuitton. All of it.

Screw lifting wallets. Amber’s luggage _alone_ could pay her half of the rent for at least two months, and that didn’t even include what was _inside_.

Eretria had a plan for her life without Cephalo—honesty, hard work, and _no stealing_ —but years of service to the best con man in three states were hard to forget.

Her mind cycled through about a half-dozen potential cons for Amber before Eretria remembered who she was, and where she was. She wasn’t that broken little girl anymore. She had a scholarship—she had a _meal plan._ Eretria was her own person, and it didn’t matter what Cephalo would want, or what he would do. He wasn’t here. 

With effort, Eretria stepped further away from the suitcases that Amber wasn’t watching and that her driver/valet/servant boy had left unattended. It felt good, like a _fuck you_ to Cephalo that only she could hear.

Still, her fingers itched.

The driver/boyfriend came back with four more suitcases (LV. matching.) just as Amber was finishing her story, turning to Eretria for some kind of reaction.

“Uh…wow,” Eretria tried. It didn’t work.

Amber rolled her eyes. “You know what? Nevermind.”

“Where do you want these?” the driver/boyfriend asked.

Amber looked around the room. “I don’t even know. I think I’m going to have to send some stuff back with you, actually.” She sighed, pulling off a soft looking purple thing she had wrapped around her shoulders. “Let me hang this up first.”

She sounded so dejected that Eretria almost felt bad. So, partly because she was cute, partly Cephalo wouldn’t have wanted her to, but mostly to quell the guilt she was beginning to feel, Eretria decided to help. It would be nice. It would be her One Good Thing ™  for the day.

“You can have my closet,” Eretria said finally, trying and failing to keep her voice from sounding annoyed and put-upon. She cleared her throat. “I mean, the closet on my side. You can use it.”

Amber turned to her. “Don’t you need it?” she asked, confused.

Eretria laughed, and shook her head. “It’s empty. I was going to put my jacket there, but…” She nodded over to her desk, where her jacket lay folded over the chair. “Take the closet space.”

“That’s incredibly nice of you,” Amber said. “Thanks.” She smiled, surprised and…moved, as if it were more than just closet space Eretria was offering her.

Eretria smiled back, despite herself. Then, Amber unzipped a suitcase and Eretria realized that she didn’t want to know what was inside. Cephalo, or no Cephalo, she wasn’t going to run a con on her new roommate. Especially when that roommate was Amber. Even as rich as she was, she didn’t deserve that. 

More importantly, Eretria was better than that. At least, that was the plan. 

So, with effort, she forced herself to turn away from the luggage. 

“No worries,” she said, reaching for her jacket and nodding at Amber and the driver/boyfriend. “I’ll just…leave you to it.” Dropping the wallet where Amber was sure to find it, Eretria turned on her heel and walked out. She had work-study to apply for.

_ Fuck. _

* * *

 

“You live in a bubble, Amberle,” Uncle Ander used to say when she was younger, whenever father would refuse to explain something, or something happened on the television that she wasn’t allowed to watch. “You’ll understand when you get older.”

But she hadn’t. She’d lived in the tiny bubble of New York high society for as long as she could remember, and even her excursions south of 83rd street seemed like a big deal for Amberle, confined as she was to big homes and fancy hotels and private beaches. 

After father had died, it had only gotten worse. Grandfather was scared to let her out of his sight, so she’d just stayed at home most of the time, going with him when he went off to movie sets or following Ander when he went traveling.

But now? Now, she was in the real world. And…she was beginning to understand what her Uncle had meant. 

“Miss Amber!!!!” shrieked a little girl, pulling Amberle’s ponytail. She laughed, or tried to, but it hurt like _hell_. 

“Um, sweetheart,” she started, “Would you mind perhaps—

But the girl wasn’t even trying to listen. The volunteer coordinator had mentioned that the after-school programs were a bit challenging, but Amberle hadn’t listened. _How bad could they be?_ , she’d thought. Well, now she knew.

The little girl yanked on her hair once more, and Amberle nearly drew blood biting off the cry that threatened to spill from her mouth.

“Now, now,” a voice said gently. “That’s not nice, is it?”

Amberle looked up to see a boy her age, with blond hair and eyes bluer than she’d ever seen in her entire life, smiling kindly at the screeching hellion of a child beside her. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The little girl looked up like he was Prince Charming, clearly in awe of the older boy. And he was definitely…something to be in awe of. Amberle had a feeling that she and the little girl had matching expressions. 

“Samantha,” she said, biting her lip.

“Good to meet you, Samantha,” the boy said. He smiled at her, then shook her hand, overly formal and polite in a way that made Amberle’s heart melt. “Now, Samantha, I need your help. There’s a capture the flag game about to start and we’re still one person short.” 

He widened his eyes dramatically and she mirrored him, her mouth dropping open. “Oh no!”

He nodded. “Oh yes. Can you help us out?” For the first time, he turned to Amberle, winking conspiratorially at her. “I’m afraid you might have to leave Miss…

“Amber,” Amberle finished gratefully. 

“I’m afraid you might have to leave Miss Amber for a few minutes. Would that be okay?”

The girl frowned, and Amberle realized with shock that she was sad to leave her—that she’d been _playing_ with her, not tormenting her. Her face softened, and she put her arms out. Samantha gave her a quick hug. 

“I’m sorry, Miss Amber,” she said quietly.

“I understand,” Amberle nodded, saluting her. “Your country needs you.”

Samantha nodded gravely, then ran away, following the squeals to the game of capture the flag. 

“Hope you don’t mind my interrupting you like that,” the boy said, brushing off his pants as the two of them stood up. Amberle turned. Unsurprisingly, he was even more attractive without pain radiating across her scalp, and Amberle’s gaze flickered back and forth between the uncanny blue of his eyes and the vee of golden skin visible at top of his half-buttoned denim shirt.

Most of the boys she knew from school and charity events looked like they came from a mold—same gelled hair, same $500 khakis, same trust fund. This boy looked…real in a way Amberle couldn’t explain. 

“Not at all,” she said. “You practically saved my life.” He laughed, and Amberle smiled back. “Or at least my hair.”

“Entirely worth it,” he agreed, then smiled at her as she blushed, absorbing the compliment and the way it spread through her body like wine.

“Are you from Arborlon?” he asked, and she nodded. “I thought so. I noticed you at the meeting.”

He flushed, and Amberle could tell that he hadn’t meant to say that part out loud. 

She smiled even harder then, at the compliment that hadn’t meant to be a compliment. “You’re good with kids,” Amberle said, so that he wouldn’t have to explain himself.

“You think so?”

Amberle nodded. Her initial assessment of him as Prince Charming hadn’t been too far off the mark, now that she thought about it. Blond, beautiful, great with kids…

“It’s just because I spent the last three summers in a doctor’s office full of children. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

A good samaritan too? Okay this was starting to be ridiculous.

She laughed. “So, what? Practice makes perfect? Is that what you’re saying?” Amberle looked up, thinking of a few things she wouldn’t mind practicing with him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, eyes on her. “Practice makes perfect.

And, for some reason, Amberle knew he was thinking the same exact thing.

Just then, the sound of crying sprung up from the other side of the yard. It was their job to fix it, even though there were only about 30 minutes left of the program. Still, Amberle it felt wrong to attend to it, to shatter the moment. 

Because it was definitely _a_ _moment._ Whether it was a friend moment, or something more (Amberle hoped it was something more) it was definitely something. She could feel it. After a second or two, another group of children shrieked on the opposite side of the playground. Amberle looked reluctantly in the direction of the second noise. They’d have to go. Still, it wasn’t like they’d never see each other again, right? 

She turned back to him.

“Do you—

“How about—

They spoke at the same time, then broke off, laughing in shared amusement. It felt too simple, too easy. Like they’d known each other forever.

“Go ahead,” Amberle said, but he waved her off.

“Ladies first.”

She laughed. “Do you want to have dinner? After this, I mean.”

“Sure,” he said immediately, coolness all but forgotten in his excitement. His cheeks flushed. “I mean, I’d like that.”

“Great!”

Laughing, they ran off in separate directions, but when Amberle turned to say goodbye, she realized that she had no idea what to call him. She’d told him her name, when they were dealing with Samantha, but they hadn’t actually been introduced to each other. She didn’t know his name. She turned back, then stopped, as he’d clearly had the same thought and was smiling back at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Hi,” Amberle smiled back.

“Hi.”

She opened her mouth to ask, but he answered before she could say anything. “It’s Wil. My name is Wil.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr. It's embarrassing. Come say hi or request a fic! 
> 
> sussoria.tumblr.com


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